


Dragon Age: Meditations

by SharmaWild



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharmaWild/pseuds/SharmaWild
Summary: Newly conscripted, Alistair struggles to come to terms with his past and accept his future as a Grey Warden,
Kudos: 1





	Dragon Age: Meditations

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short spur of the moment thing. I hope you enjoy it!

Alistair was meditating, following the familiar pattern of inhaling and exhaling while reciting the Chant of Benediction.

_Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked…_ The words were suppose to give calm and focus, and normally it worked but not tonight. His mind felt scattered, and he couldn’t remember what was suppose to come next. He took another deep, slow breath. Held it, let it go and started over. _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked… and do not falter…_ He sighed, groping in his memory for the next line in the stanza. It was the dreams. The nightmares. They harrowed his nights and left him drained and weary.

“Such dreams are common when you start sensing the darkspawn. You will learn to shut them out in time.” Duncan’s voice had been filled with compassion, and the strong hand squeezing his shoulder had been warm and reassuring. Alistair felt his breath falter, and the words of the Chant was replaced by other words. Words of longing for something… something he had only experienced briefly before it got taken away. Belonging. Companionship. A family. A father…

Eyes filled with pride watching as he practised with a heavy wooden sword, holding his own against boys several years his senior. “Keep moving. Don’t let your foes flank you. Well done, Alistair!” Arl Eamon had given him a smile and a nod, and the praise had made Alistair’s heart swell. Redcliff had been home. Until it wasn’t. For so long, he had been hurt and angry. He had felt banned. Cast out. He had resented Eamon, and hated the Chantry. He had struggled to find his place, to accept that he would forever be kept apart. Never fully accepted. All because of blood.

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written…_ He couldn’t help but to wonder what will the Maker had written in his blood. A royal bastard, raised in the outskirts of nobility, trained as a templar by the Chantry and now conscripted into the Order of the Grey Wardens. What other twists and turns did fate have in store for him, he wondered? It didn’t matter. The realisation slowly dawned on him: he had finally found the one thing he had yearned for his entire life. He had found a family. One that couldn’t be taken away. He finally belonged.

Calm now, Alistair started over, and this time the words of the Chant came easy. _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written…_ He finished the meditation, then blew out the candle and climbed to his feet, feeling focused and at peace for the first time in years.

“Are you ready, Alistair?” He turned to find Duncan watching him from the adjacent room. King Cailan had showed them every courtesy, setting them up with a suite in the royal castle. Not everyone was happy about that though. Alistair had overheard Loghaine chastise the young king, calling him a fool for reaching out to the Grey Wardens in Orlais.

“Do you really think this is the beginning of a Blight?” He asked, falling in beside the senior Warden as they exited their comfortable quarters.

“It’s too early to tell”, Duncan replied. “But one thing is certain. A large horde of darkspawn is gathering in the wilds. Even without an archdemon leading them, they pose a threat to Thedas, and our duty is clear.”

“We’ll defeat them”, Alistair said with all the conviction of youth. “I’m sure of it.”

Duncan smiled. “From your lips to the Maker’s ears. Now come on, dinner is being served in the great hall, and it won’t look good if we arrive after the king. And I’m sure you must be hungry.”

“Starving”, Alistair agreed. Together they walked down the gallery with generations of Ferelden royalty watching them from the walls. The darkspawn appearing in such numbers was a worry. But Alistair’s heart felt light and he couldn’t keep a smile from his face. In the Grey Wardens he had found everything he longed for: discipline, purpose, and most of all family. Having fought darkspawn in preparation for his initiation ritual, he didn’t relish the thought of an entire horde of the monstrous things waiting for them at Ostergar. But with Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens by his side, he could brave anything fate threw at him. Of that he was certain.

The End.


End file.
